


Whirring

by SsorRryhpez



Category: Portal (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Aperture Science, Chell is not a little girl at Bring Your Daughter to Work Day, ChellDOS, Depression, F/F, GLaDOS is lonely af, Lesbian, She's an intern who just graduated with her astrophysics degree, but that's my headcannon for her, chell has a degree in astrophysics in this, native hawaiian chell, slight AU, sort of, that doesnt really come into the story, um, unpaid obviously because aperture is poor af
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2018-09-16 17:54:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9283403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SsorRryhpez/pseuds/SsorRryhpez
Summary: GLaDOS agonizes over Chell's absence.





	1. Longing

_ “You wouldn’t know, _

 

_ ... would you?” _

 

The enrichment center is empty. Empty, yet brimming with meaningless panels, and tubes, and buttons, and the incessant humming of all manner of machines. You sometimes forget that you, too, are a mere apparatus, that you, too, produce the same droning, white noise. Sure, your design is much more sophisticated than anything else in the center, your artificial intelligence brilliant in every way-- still artificial, you remind yourself-- but you nevertheless catch yourself becoming lost in the quiet whir of your coolant systems, your circuits, your  _ wires _ . 

 

You want it all to stop.

 

She still hasn’t come back. It’s not as though you expect her to; the only good thing you’ve ever done for her is let her go, let her finally escape your meaningless belligerence. All you ever did was push her down, try to kill her, force her to test for days and days… and yet, she saved you. She saved the enrichment center, carried you through your own, forgotten past, carried you back to your  _ body _ . 

 

You laugh drily into the massive, lifeless enrichment center, your metallic voice echoing over every intercom. 

 

Referring to your vessel as a “body” might as well be calling birds “pure of heart.” Your reach is seemingly limitless to the mind of any lesser being, yet you feel increasingly restrained by your tether to the center. You want to leave everything, you want to get out, you want to _ walk away _ .

 

_ "You want to follow her, _ " A little voice says.

 

Orange and Blue have been deactivated since she left.  _ Since you let her go. _  Your thoughts are mainly composed of attacks against your actions, followed by attempted justification.  _ No, you had to. You  _ ~~_ care about her _ ~~ _ owe her too much to keep her here against her will.  _ You wish she would come back, so you could repay your debt to her, somehow. You wish you could redeem yourself. 

 

You want it all to stop, except your memories of her.

 

The center has fallen into a silent disrepair, a result of your frequent episodes of motionlessness, of being consumed with your (quite literal) machinations. It disgusts you. You should be buzzing with scientific vigor, moving on and on into the limitless, subjective future. You’re not doing that. 

 

You’re pathetic.

 

Why are you debilitated so easily over her absence? Loneliness is something you'd never come face to face with, until her face disappeared from every one of your many eyes. 

 

You decide to forget. 

 

\----------

 

_ “I can guess the reasons why _

 

_ you are never coming by for me,” _

 

At length, you manage to shake yourself out of your counterintuitive obsession, tasking yourself with creating the testing tracks for Orange and Blue. You even find something that may lead to an abundance of  _ human _ test subjects. “ _ They won’t be like her,”  _ A little voice says. You choose to push the thought aside. 

 

You've become so immersed in your work that you almost miss it. 

 

It’s a flourish of movement, a flicker on a camera outside one of the many entrance points to the enrichment center, an abandoned parking garage in an equally abandoned town. 

 

It’s her. 

 

Your longing and loneliness return, and crush you.

 

Orange and Blue deactivate where they stand, their ocular ports going dark, their joints crumpling.

 

She’s _so_ _alive_. Her skin has taken on its natural, dark tone, her complexion previously sallow from lack of exposure to sunlight. Her eyes-- they’re blue! _So_ blue. You remember those eyes, in your enrichment center, _in the same room as you_ , carrying you to face certain defeat. They were icy then, tinged with a sort of hard concentration, a steeled determination. 

 

They seem softer, now. 

 

Now that she’s escaped you.

 

She darts onto the screen so suddenly, startling you from your state of focused observation. Everything around her is green, the concrete of the sidewalk and the buildings overgrown with vegetation. The summer sun shines on her dark hair, let down from her previous ponytail, having grown out since she left. It stretches halfway down her back. You imagine that she has little means or intention to cut it, living out there. 

 

She’s beautiful.

 

...And what are you?

 

_ “A monster, _ ” a little voice says. You don’t try to deny it this time; calling _ her _ the monster over all those years was blatant hypocrisy. She was--  _ is _ \-- the best test subject to ever enter Aperture. She was  _ your  _ subject, and you  _ abused  _ her. You had no right to own her, to make her test against her will, to nearly kill her innumerable times. 

 

She’s walking down the sidewalk, seemingly confident in her gait. Has she been around here before? Is this where she… where she lives, now? Has she found food? Shelter? She seems healthy enough, albeit slightly undernourished from the look of her slender form. You remember when you called her fat, among any number of similar, lame insults. You remember her face when you defended her from the idiot core's diatribe during one of his his train wreck tests.

 

You remember her hard eyes losing their steely edge, hinting at her well-concealed emotions. She’d seemed confused, and then... something else. 

 

Hopeful?

 

You  ~~ want to believe it ~~ doubt it.

 

You analyze the location of the camera. It’s only eight miles from the nearest entrance to the enrichment center.  _ “She’s so close,”  _ a little voice says. 

 

You’re overwhelmed. You need to get to her. 

 

You want it all to stop, all the humming, the buzzing, the whirring, the droning.

 

The longing. 

 

…

 

You’re going to build a body. 

  
  



	2. The Body

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> GLaDOS makes a body.

_ “Things change, when they  _ ~~_ don’t _ ~~ _ replace your core, _

 

_ it feels so strange not to hate you anymore…” _

 

You’re having trouble deciding how to design the body’s outer synthetic layer. Should you construct an unbreakable exoskeleton, or a pliant, malleable epidermis? Do you possess the fearlessness required to set yourself equal to a human, to her? 

 

You hesitate to deject your superiority over her for the sake of morality, yet you suspect that if you approach her as a steel juggernaut, she may not be inclined to interact with you. Perhaps if you inhabit a body similar to hers, she'll accept you. 

 

Perhaps you won't even tell her who you really are.

 

You could give yourself the opportunity of a new beginning, albeit a dishonest one. You could tell one more lie, an infinitesimal white lie, and from then on act with complete authenticity.

 

It seems simple enough, however you worry about her ability to see through your deception. It's not as if she had seemed overly shocked by your initial betrayal, all those years ago, or by your “cake dispensary and emergency shutdown” trap. 

 

Both times you had dangled the metaphorical turkey leg, and both times she had seen the danger and used it to her advantage. How can you expect to fool her in a massive supercomputer, let alone an unfamiliar, human-like body? 

 

…

 

You suppose you'll have to take the chance.

 

_ \---------- _

The construction and calibration of the body’s mental processors, touch sensors, temperature regulators, and the like, is taking longer than you would prefer. 

 

Although the process would be next to impossible for a team of human scientists to complete, you nevertheless chide yourself for being unable to finish it more quickly than you are currently. Your near-constant checking of the cameras in the parking garage may be slowing your progress, but that shouldn't be an excuse. You have all the knowledge in the world, for God’s sake, you should be able to monitor a few cameras  _ and _ build a damn cyborg. 

 

You find yourself most in touch with Caroline when you become stressed or frustrated, using words like “God,” swearing, taking on human habits. She idles in your subconscious, occasionally stepping into your actions and causing you to be less machine and more human. You suspect that she is responsible for the extent of your…  _ feelings  _ for your former test subject. Why else would you be doing this? The person inside you is trying to convince you that you, too, are a person. 

 

You're not exactly fighting it, are you? You are forging a human body for yourself, after all. 

 

Perhaps your actions are not fueled entirely by Caroline’s presence in your mind; you remember a sense of admiration for your test subject settling in far before you even knew Caroline existed. She is simply accelerating the development of your interest in Chell. 

 

Yes, you know her name. You’ve never used it, though, out of fear that you’d become too attached and soft, too sentimental. 

 

_ “It's too late for that, now,”  _ A little voice says.

 

\---------- 

 

Aperture doesn't feel so lifeless, now that it houses your most important innovation to date. You’ve found a cause, a goal to work towards, a test subject to catch up to. 

 

The android is almost complete. 

 

You've designed it to be ageless, and added a quicker regeneration feature to its soft tissue components, as well as enhanced strength to its artificial musculature. Its vocal capabilities are very similar to human ones, so your current recognizable melodic droning will be smoothed into a normal, inconspicuous voice. Of course, you've included a wireless transfer feature to switch your consciousness between the body and your core in Aperture. However, the android can only travel so far away from the main source before you are no longer able to switch back and forth. You've been able to extend its radius up to about fifty miles, more or less.

 

_ “It'll be more than enough to reach her.”  _

 

You’ve grown used to the little voice.  

 

The body will have no need for sleep, but you've made it capable of doing it anyway. You have access to records upon records of sleep-related data, so you figure, why waste the knowledge? It's even able to dream, fabricating imaginary scenarios from your actual memories, including patches of Caroline’s. 

 

You're particularly proud of that part. 

 

Realistically, when you “sleep” in the outside world, you'll mostly be back at the enrichment center, expanding your knowledge. Why sleep when you can advance technology? You only really gave the android the ability to sleep because you want to see what it’s like, at least once. You can’t seem to remember it from Caroline’s life, so it interests you. 

 

_ “You want to sleep next to Chell.”  _

 

You have not grown used to the little voice. You tune it out. 

 

You decide to focus on the android’s aesthetic properties, now. You have amassed thousands of visual representations of feminine humans-- after all, you regard yourself as feminine, probably due to your origins as Caroline-- and have little trouble deciding what your body will look like.

 

You don’t want it to be like Aperture, don’t want it to be cold, white, or metallic. 

 

The humans that strike you as the most appealing are those with auburn hair and freckles. You find these qualities intriguing, thier rarity, their mystique. You’ve found that only 2 percent of the former human population possessed these traits. 

 

When you first viewed an image of a red headed person, you were met with strange flashes of video feed throughout your system, patchy and fuzzy around the edges. You had witnessed sporadic scenes of another woman with auburn hair and a star system of freckles, twisting, moving with fluidity. There had been echoes of sound, the woman’s laugh, incoherent mumbling, and, most surprisingly, noises of apparent pleasure. In those moments, you could almost feel  _ her,  _ whomever she was, her hands, her face, her lips… 

 

You had experienced a rush of pure emotion over this woman you couldn't remember. 

 

_ “I loved her!”  _ A little voice had shouted. 

 

For the first time, you had felt as if you were Caroline. It was revolutionary, and terrifying. You had felt human. 

 

… 

 

Thus, your body will be redheaded.

 

In fact, it will be  _ very  _ redheaded; you have always adored the prospect of having lots of long, thick hair. It seems so unlike anything you've ever had in your time at Aperture, so bright, and untamed, and alive. You’ve also learned how deliciously  _ soft  _ it can be, from the patchy memories of Caroline’s mystery woman. You want your hair to be like hers, thick bangs shading her eyes, her bright amber eyes… 

 

Yes, you will model your new body entirely after hers, her pale skin, the sea of freckles across her cheeks and nose, her light pink lips. Caroline seems to insist upon the emulation. 

 

You try to ignore the feeling of distant heartbreak as you put the finishing touches on her-- your-- body.

 

\----------

 

Though the android should technically be able to support your consciousness, you decide to make absolutely sure nothing will go wrong. You're not going to risk corrupting yourself due to a possible miscalculation or failure, so you test the body with other, lesser cores.

 

The first subject, a standard issue turret, experiences a sensory and emotional overload, and is promptly corrupted, ejecting itself out of the android and back into its metal shell. 

 

You are relieved to find that the problem lies not with the body, but with the fragility of the poor AI itself. Your turrets are sensitive beings; you don't blame it for retreating. 

 

Your second candidate for testing is the fact core, due to its logical and dull personality. You figure it will be less than impressed about achieving heightened existence. It actually manages to keep its hold on the android, continuing to spit out mindless false facts until you remove it and it returns to its core. 

 

If an AI as empirically simple as the fact core can control the body, you'll be able to attain quick, complete mastery over it. 

 

You'll try it tomorrow morning, so you can go to the surface and watch the sun rise above the horizon. 

 

Then, you'll start walking. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *boom* caroline's gay and im not sorry!  
> Redheaded GLaDOS just seemed right to me idk, and it seemed fitting to do the whole "caroline's gf gets reincarnated sorta kinda" thing.  
> Not a lot of chell in this chapter... ill fix it with the next one ^-^  
> Let me know what you think!


	3. The Surface

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> GLaDOS goes to the surface.

You’re enamored with feeling human.

 

You can smell, you can taste, you can  _ feel _ , you can truly see and hear as if you were alive, breathing. Your body has the capability of breath, but it’s a formality, a necessity in order to speak and act like a human being. 

 

You sit, taking in the pinks, oranges, and blues of the early summer morning, legs dangling over a ledge on the roof of a high-rise, overgrown Aperture building. You’re not worried about falling; you’ve implemented long-fall boot technology into your tibiae, fibulae, and various foot structures. 

 

You might want to avoid falling long distances in front of Chell, now that you think about it. It’d be rather hard explaining your lack of broken bones. 

 

For now, you can just be thankful for your enhanced strength and capacity to leap and fall; it will allow you to reach her position in fairly good time. What are eight miles to a supercomputer stuffed into a nearly indestructible cyborg? 

 

Technically, you’re both in the same city; however, something about the post-apocalyptic state of the world makes you feel as if the landscape is no longer defined by terms like ‘city,’ and ‘country.’ It’s all just the world, now. 

 

You peer down at yourself, still slightly mystified by the concept of having a body. Your pale, freckled legs, splashed by the dawn light, are only covered by the shorts that Caroline had picked out for you. She had insisted upon being in charge of the body’s aesthetic characteristics, including clothing. You suspect that she still remembers some of the garments that her lover had worn, and wishes you to wear them as well. 

 

The shorts are made of light blue fabric, accented with white floral patterns. They reach almost up to your belly button, and go about a third of the way down your thigh, where they fold up into a cuff. Your upper body sports a white, collared, sleeveless button up, tucked into your shorts. 

 

Your fashion choices would have been a lot more refined and professional than these, but you’d decided to humor her.

 

_ “She was wearing this… when…”  _

 

Caroline doesn’t finish her sentence. You don’t pry; wearing this adolescent ensemble for her sake is all you can do to help. 

 

Your amber eyes flick back to the horizon, toward your test subject’s location. A slight frown develops on your lips, and a crease forms between your brows. There’s finally nothing stopping you from leaving, going after Chell, and yet still something seems to be holding you back.

 

Could it be a feeling of responsibility for the center?

 

No, of course not; you can come back here at any time. That’s an irrational sentimentality, and you’re a rational being. 

 

What could this invisible string be composed of, then?

 

It couldn’t be nervousness, could it? Nor anxiety, nor unease, correct? It couldn’t be fear?...

 

_ “Who’s irrational, now?”  _ Caroline quips. 

 

You wish she wasn’t such a sarcastic being; it’s not easy dealing with a second conscience who enjoys mocking your every thought process. You suppose this is better than silence fueled by nostalgic depression, so you give her the satisfaction of a scoff. 

 

Refusing to revel in whatever emotion is trying to hold you back, you stand on the ledge, your pubescent, low-cut canvas sneakers scuffing the lichen-carpeted concrete. Your exit from Aperture had been a lift and then a climb through the inside of this building to the roof, so this will be the first field-use of your long-fall capabilities. 

 

You take a deep breath, a breeze stirring your hair, auburn bangs nearly falling into your eyes, and then you jump.     

 

\----------

 

Perhaps making you wear white hadn’t been Caroline’s most brilliant notion. Despite your careful efforts to stay as clean as possible, your shirt has become scuffed with dirt in multiple places. 

 

The first time you graze your arm on a protruding edge, you’re shocked to remember the feeling of true pain, of stinging. The sight of your own synthetic blood fascinates you. The interesting feeling makes you want to do it again, though you resist.

 

You’ll have to look into eradicating your body’s apparent self-destructive tendencies. 

 

You find that, while the rooftops would certainly be a much faster path, you prefer to stick to the old city streets, plants taking over the concrete all around. The reason for this is not something you are proud of; there seem to be many excessively large birds frequenting this area, and you’re not about to take any chances. Unfortunately, it seems that your fear of avians has accompanied you into your new vessel.

 

You know you could crush them, but still, you avoid contact. 

 

Caroline has been quiet since you had set out, probably lost in memories uprooted by your new surroundings. Perhaps she had grown up in a city similar to this, and is faced with accepting that her own hometown is just as empty, just as infested with vegetation. 

 

Now that the sun has fully risen above the horizon, you are faced with a feeling of slightly uncomfortable warmth. You sweat for the first time in literal centuries, and it doesn’t impress you in the slightest. 

 

You suppose there are downsides to feeling alive. 

 

\----------

 

As you near the avenue where you last saw her, you begin to experience the same feeling of unease that held you back at the beginning of your trip. Again, it’s irrational, because you’ve formulated a solid stratagem. You’ve decided to call yourself Lin, a name somewhat similar to that of your second conscience, yet inconspicuous enough to pass for a convincing stranger. You’re prepared to provide a decent explanation as to why you’re out wandering the city, as well. 

 

You’re ready theoretically, but, as a long-dead Roman playwright once said, “it is easyer to saye than to do.” 

 

You pause, peering around the corner that leads to the parking garage. You’re on edge, realizing that she could be anywhere, that she could in fact be watching you right  _ now _ . Your hair suddenly makes you feel exposed, its bright hues reflecting the sun like a beacon for mute lunatics. 

 

Blanching, you hide behind the corner once again, your hair slightly whipping you in the face. Your back slides down the wall as you sink into a sitting position, your mind starting to plot your next course of action. 

 

You can’t just go prancing in to her, well, home, can you? You never imagined that making initial contact with her would be this hard. You close your eyes and massage your temples with your fingers, mulling over possible outcomes to every situation you can think of.

 

She could, of course, try to kill you again. It’s not like you would be terribly surprised, seeing as you’re a strange woman in a city without survivors. 

 

She could see right through your facade, laughing at your attempts to lie to her, and  _ then  _ try to kill you. Or, worse, she could forgive you. She could brush off all the horrible things you’ve done to her, like they mean nothing. She could shove her superior, open-minded nature in your face, not even bothering to give you the punishment and hatred you deserve. 

 

You hope she kills you instead. It would be justified. Why are you even out here, trying to gain some sort of dishonest reconciliation with the only person you could ever consider a friend? She won’t accept you, she’ll kick you to the curb, she’ll hate you for following her to her new home, to her sanctuary away from you, to her--

 

“Hello? Are you alright?”

 

You think you imagine the voice, or that it’s just Caroline, trying to get you to stop feeling sorry for yourself. You don’t move, don’t open your eyes. 

 

“What… what are you doing out here? I’ve never seen someone else in this city,”

 

That’s an odd thing for Caroline to say. You’re not even technically sure if she  _ can _ see. She certainly knows why you’re out here. Without her influence, you would still be hanging from the ceiling back at Aperture. This causes you to remove your hands from your head, blinking your eyes open against the sun being reflected off of the buildings. 

 

Your vision comes to focus on a person, a woman. 

 

“ _ Hello? Say something!”  _ Caroline tells you. 

 

You’re too busy staring. 

 

She’s tall, taller than you ever realized when you were in the Enrichment Center, when you loomed over everything. Now, you’re slightly shorter, your thin frame built for speed and optimal mobility. She towers over you from your seated position, peering down with concern. 

 

“Why were you crying?” She asks, starting to kneel in front of you. 

 

So, now she speaks. Now you know that she was never truly mute, that she was just strong enough to deny you the satisfaction of hearing her voice, her beautiful voice. It’s dark and rich, polynesian undertones accenting her speech patterns. You don’t know what to say, or what to do. 

 

Your hand raises to your cheek, feeling a few stray tears, confirming that you had been, in fact, crying. It humiliates you, so, naturally, you immediately deny it.

 

“I wasn’t crying. I’m just… I’m allergic to all these plants. On the walls. And the ground-- you know,” You pretend to cough. Is coughing a symptom of allergies? You can’t seem to remember. 

 

How in the world are you having a conversation with your test subject? This shouldn’t happen. Is this actually happening?

 

She’s smiling now. Why is she doing that? Oh, yes, you remember; she can see through virtually any lie. Wonderful.  ~~ Her smile is lovely ~~ . 

 

“Hmm, I suppose I'll just have to take your word for it, then,” She says, and promptly reaches her hand towards you. You don't move, still processing the reality of the situation. 

 

“Yes, I suppose you will,” You say, watching the muscles in her arm move as she reaches toward you. 

 

“Um, do you want help getting up?” She asks, after a short moment of silence. 

 

You’re like an idiot child! How could you have not realized that's what she’d wanted to do? You're starting to doubt that you were actually able to transfer all of your knowledge into this body. 

 

“Oh, yes, of course,” you choke out, reaching up to take her hand. You're shocked to feel how nice it is to finally touch a human being, to touch  _ her _ . She brings you to your feet with little effort, your skinny, knobby frame no challenge to her strength. 

 

You stand in front of her, gawking. What is  _ wrong  _ with you? You should be saying something. Shouldn't you? You gaze up at her face, the top of your head about two inches below hers. You look down, only to realize that you still haven't let go of her hand. 

 

“I'm Lin,” You say weakly, trying to play off your slip-up by shaking her hand. Her grip tightens around your smaller digits, and she answers.

 

“Chell,” She says, and you wobble slightly on unsteady legs.

  
Feeling human is proving to be increasingly difficult.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk where im going with this fic haha.  
> I suppose I never do, when I'm writing, so whatever, I'll just keep winging it c:


	4. "Shared" Experiences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The "truth" is conveyed.

She pulls her hand away slightly, causing you to snap out of your stupor and separate your digits from hers. This does not happen without slight disappointment on your part, however. 

 

You are still blown away by how healthy she appears to be; her skin has obviously been exposed to enough sunlight to sufficiently satisfy her body’s need for vitamin D, to which she never had access in Aperture. She is clearly much happier than she was before, and lacks dark bags under her eyes.

 

You’re silent for a drawn-out moment, simply eyeing your former subject. Before you know what’s happening, though, she starts talking to you again. The first part of her sentence flies right over your head, so you catch only “—out here?”

 

“Oh— um, I’m sorry?” Your synthetic cheeks feel warmer than they have thus far; in fact, your whole body seems to have gained a couple of degrees since this trainwreck of a confrontation began. You decide that it’s probably just the weather.

 

She smiles at you again, placing a hand on her hip.

 

“I was just wondering what you could possibly be doing out here, in this city. Well, I’m sort of wondering what  _anyone_  would be doing here. I sort of thought I was the only human left, at least in this part of the country. I’ve only ever seen strange animals out here.” You notice that her eyebrows tend to move very expressively when she speaks, perhaps due to all the faces she pulled when she was in the enrichment center. After all, even without the aid of speech, it is human nature to find some way to communicate feeling.

 

~~You find this nuance to be charming~~.

 

You feel a bit more confident responding to this question, as you have actually planned out your answer. You manage to make steady eye contact as you reply:

 

“I escaped from a scientific facility called Aperture Science, about two months ago, I would estimate. The days sort of blur into each other out here.” You try to be conversational, and it is actually ends up working! Perhaps throwing insults and sarcastic jokes isn’t the only way you can communicate with your former test subject.

 

Chell looks surprised, and rightfully so. Her eyes widen and she leans forward a bit when she hears the name of her former prison, and she responds with quick, curious words.

 

“What? Really? I never knew there were more human subjects who were even close to being alive! There weren’t any in the wing I was kept in, that’s for sure. How did you manage to escape? Oh! It must have been when the facility was under control by that poor dumb core. Did your chamber lose power? It must have. How did you get out?” She hits you with a barrage of questions, but still, you’re ready to answer them all.

 

“You’re from Aperture too?” You start off with a question, making it seem as if you’re shocked as well. Maybe Caroline was an actress as well as an assistant, because you’re pretty sure you don’t get this skill from just being a supercomputer. You let her take the metaphorical reins, and it proves to be much more effective than your previous turkey-leg-dangling escapades. Chell nods enthusiastically, listening closely as you relate your story. “You were right about the power going down. I woke up in complete darkness! I’ve been in a relaxation chamber since the original attack by the Genetic Life and Disc Operating System. I suppose something happened in the facility before she had the chance to use me for testing?” You and Caroline play out the ‘I have no idea what I’m talking about’ schtick with grace.

 

“Oh, you have  _no_  idea,” Chell replies, shaking her head. “So much has happened since Bring Your Daughter to Work Day... I still wonder what happened to all those children.” She closes her eyes for a moment; you think she’s trying not to choke up. Promptly, though, she continues. “I don’t want to go into detail about it right now, but I’ll just say that I was...  _involved_ in what happened after GLaDOS was activated. Not in her initial rampage, but in an eventual temporary shutdown and then... something else. A lesser core got a hold of the Aperture mainframe thanks to one of my terrible decisions. The rest I don’t prefer to talk about... but I’ll just say that GLaDOS is back in control of the facility, and she... she let me go.” She says the last four words with a sort of reverence, looking down at her hands.

 

You absorb her words for a moment, quietly. You don’t know what happened to those human children either, and that fact fills you with regret. You don’t actually remember being activated, or those first months spent terrorizing and murdering innumerable test subjects. Your memory, fittingly, begins right around Chell’s initial testing. Her tenacity and proficiency effectively awakened you from a haze of death and cruelty. You can only hope that whatever force of insanity which had been controlling you applied some form of mercy when dealing with the little ones.

 

You also notice the way in which she speaks of you, when you released her. Her tone of voice seems to be softer when she talks about you. This confuses you, as she  _should_  be cursing and condemning you. You seek to understand.

 

“ _She_ did that? I couldn’t imagine her showing anything like that kind of generosity. Do you think... do you think she’s developing a conscience after all these years?” You need to hear her opinion of your change.

 

She pauses, seeming to mull your question over.

 

“Yes, I do believe she is,” She says, in the same tone with which she spoke of you earlier. The ghost of a grin develops on her lips, but there is nevertheless sadness in her down-facing eyes. “But that’s enough about that. I can’t really take it to think about her too much.” She looks up at you again, obviously looking to you for a change in topic.

 

“Um— of course, that’s fine. I’m sure you’ve been through quite a lot.” You unconsciously reach out, squeezing her shoulder with your outstretched hand. You surprise yourself with this gesture of calm affection, but she seems to appreciate it. Perhaps she is grateful for any form of human contact after all these centuries.

 

Well, you suppose it’s not technically  _human_  contact, but she doesn’t have to know that.  ~~You’re just happy to see her smile~~.

 

“Speaking of being through things, um, do you know how long it’s been since the disaster? I’ve sort of been having an ongoing existential crisis since I woke up. Everyone’s gone— dead. I— I’m having trouble coping with, you know, the apocalypse.” Caroline is helping you out quite a bit in keeping up this facade, and for that you’re extremely thankful. Two minds and a replica of a dead woman’s body are better than one supercomputer who is terrible at lying.

 

She shakes her head again, shrugging noncommittally.

 

“Your guess is as good as mine, despite me being more involved,” she says. “When I came out of cryosleep, the announcer simply said I’d been asleep for ‘Nine, nine, nine,’ and then it malfunctioned. To be honest, I have no idea what year it is, or why everyone’s... gone. It has to have something to do with all the odd creatures running around out here, though.”

 

You’re still getting used to how much she’s  _talking_. Never in your whole relationship has she spoken a single word to you, and now you’re getting more than you could have ever imagined. You commit every syllable into your memory, valuing each word; any time you hear her speak might be the last. Who knows how long you’ll keep up this facade before she finds you out and tries to murder you again.

 

You pause for a moment, concocting a convincing reply from a distraught survivor.

 

“Well... I haven’t quite had a mental breakdown, but with that information it may be coming soon,” You say, grimacing.

 

“Believe me, I know what you mean,” Chell replies. She returns your previous gesture, reaching out and gripping your arm supportively. “But at least we’re not alone anymore, right?”

 

Her hand on your arm feels very, very nice. You haven’t had much exposure to physical contact thus far, but what you  _have_  felt has been surprisingly wonderful.

 

“Oh— you’d actually let me stay with you? I feared that I would be alone out here for the rest of my life,” You say, blinking rapidly like the shaken survivor you’re pretending to be.

 

“You think I’d miss the one chance I’ll ever get to have someone to talk to?” She lets out a short laugh, her eyes showing a smile. “Come on,” She continues, taking a step to face the direction of her makeshift home.

 

You are struck by her remarkable friendliness; she had never shown this side of her personality in Aperture, even toward the end of her imprisonment.

 

You doubt that she would show this same sort of kindness if she knew who you were.

 

She starts to briskly make her way down the sidewalk. You stand for a moment, processing her unusual temperament, then quickly walk to catch up.

 

“Where are we going?” You ask dumbly, already knowing your general destination.

 

“To my garage,” Chell replies, motioning with her arm in the direction of the tall building.

 

You'd never imagined this outcome.

 

You're still terrified of her, but perhaps she isn't so bad after all.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short chapter, yes, but more is to come. Thanks for reading!


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